I have 12 posts in my drafts folder.
I haven’t finished a single one in the last two weeks.
I guess you could say I’m in another dry spell.
It started because I was working on a killer project that sucked every spare brain cell I had out of my head and sent them spinning into space. It continued because I was drained…my writing batteries were dead.
But the thing with silence is, the longer it continues, the harder it is to break it.
Blogging is writing. And writing is damn hard work.
It requires me to lay myself bare, jugular exposed, day after day after day. I mean, sure, I could theoretically write less explosive things. More public things. Things that mean nothing to me.
But that’s just not who I am.
Many of the posts I write are love letters of sorts to those who mean the most to me.
Often, the things I say here are things I can’t say in real life. What flows easily off the tips of my fingers here is impossible for me to communicate in spoken words.
It’s how I write. It always has been.
So it’s either write until it hurts, or not write at all.
And that’s exhausting.
Especially since everyone I know knows I blog. My mom and dad read it. My in-laws read it. My friends read it. My coworkers sometimes read it. Even people I last worked with years ago occasionally check it out. So the things I say here? I might as well get a bullhorn and shout them from the rooftops.
That gets to me, sometimes.
I am not a public person. I abhor being the center of attention.
And yet, I am a blogger.
A blogger who blogs about herself.
How did that happen?
I don’t know.
But I’m not gone. Just…resting.
Growing a thicker skin.
I think I’m ready to come out of hiding.
I’ve just got to drive back the silence.